


The Lord of the Vaulted Hall

by tehhumi



Series: B2MEM 2019 [8]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2020-01-05 00:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehhumi/pseuds/tehhumi
Summary: Nargothrond is wondrous, as is the elf who designed it.





	The Lord of the Vaulted Hall

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts Alternative Rock Lyrics: "I know you'll be a star / In somebody else's sky / ... Why can't it be mine?" (Pearl Jam - black) O72, Keep it in the family: Finrod/Celebrimbor I20, Discoveries and Inventions: Hypocaust G57

The first thought that Celebrimbor had on arriving in Nargothrond was _beautiful_. They entered through a small cave off the river bank, but when they turned a corner suddenly there were gems studded in the walls, and a few feet on the passage opened up into a wide hall covered in carvings depicting Valinor. A smaller stream that fed into the river fell in a waterfall, before disappearing down a tunnel lined with silver. A great glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, which itself was mirrored to reflect the light. It was the most beautiful city he had seen since he was a child in Tirion.

Aglon had been a fortress, designed first to guard the pass, second to protect its inhabitants from the bitter wind, and third to house all of Himlad if necessary; aesthetics were a distant fourth. Formenos had been crammed full, a town of a few hundred people suddenly getting several thousand of Feanor’s supporters overnight. The buildings had been functional, but why design them to last when you were going back to Tirion in a decade? Formenos had rang constantly with the forging of swords and armor, and there had of course been gems decorating his grandfather’s house, but the city was an ugly boomtown - presumably a ghost town by now.  
There was a blond elf approaching, and he was beautiful as well. He wore elaborate robes the same color as his golden hair that glittered as he walked, with gemstones sown in that again surpassed all that Celebrimbor had seen since Tirion. He was acutely aware that he had been on the road for weeks, and the outfit he was wearing had not been court clothing when he had put it on. As the other elf drew closer, Celebrimbor was able to make out his features, and his necklace. He realized with embarrassment that it was his cousin Finrod, King of Nargothrond, who he’d been staring at. He drew himself up straighter, and put all thoughts of the beauty of the city out of his mind. He was a prince visiting his kinsman, not a beggar from the country. It would take more than outer polish to awe a Feanorian.

 

As time went by, Celebrimbor continued to be impressed by the city. It was fascinatingly designed, with streets and stairways connecting shops and homes in three dimensions. And yet the basic layout was easy to learn. Streams that fed the mighty Narog were crossed by bridges, going through rooms that changed from small lakes in the springtime to concert halls in the fall and winter as the river rose and fell. Fresh air was pumped through holes so small they could barely be seen, the grating dressed to blend perfectly with the walls next to them. The entire city was essentially a massive hypocaust, with the forges on the lowest level heating rooms above. In the summer, part of the river was diverted to run directly above the main street, cooling the air.  
The wall carvings had been done in large part by Finrod himself, at least in the great Halls and the Throne room.  
Celebrimbor knew quite well that there was no reason to be ashamed of Aglon, and that it could have achieved the beauty of Nargothrond if they had not been fending off orcs attacks. But surely enjoying the city he was in now was not disloyal?  
And any Noldo worthy of the name would admire the architect who designed such a city. That was what Celebrimbor felt towards Finrod, an admiration of his skill, nothing more.  
If he noticed also that Finrod was comely, that could hardly be helped. It must be that silver-gold Arafinwean hair, so mesmerizing Feanor himself had wished to study it.

 

Celebrimbor found his thoughts straying towards Finrod more and more. He mused that they were not too closely related. On doing the math, the two of them shared only part in thirty-two of their blood - the same as second cousins, who were allowed to marry.  
Celebrimbor then realized he had been calculating their connection like a child with a crush. As if shared blood was the primary thing separating them, rather than Finrod’s fiancée, or Curufin’s animosity, or the dispossession of Feanor’s house, or the blood on Celebrimbor’s hands. He knew Finrod was kind enough not to hold Curufin or Feanor’s actions against him, but that still left Alqualonde. Celebrimbor may have been young, but he had known well enough that swords were for killing and still he had drawn his.

He would not trouble Finrod with his feelings. Let Finrod remain true to Amarie, and provide light and joy to her on his return. Celebrimbor was - not content, but accepting the situation - to admire Finrod from afar.

**Author's Note:**

> All Noldor are descended from the same 58 elves, so by Celebrimbor’s generation everyone is related somehow or other. Calculating exactly how is similar to doodling how you’ll sign your name with your crush’s last name.  
> I picture Celebrimbor as right around 50 (equivalent of late teens) during the Darkening.


End file.
